After Hours
by vintage1983
Summary: After a rough day at work, Gabriel Lorca calls on a friend with benefits to deal with stress. PWP, shameless on all levels. M for strong content and language.
1. Chapter 1

AN: _I own nothing and I am a sick, sick puppy and I am sorry but if I'm not alone I might be able to run to another chapter. Read and enjoy. All visits, reads and reviews welcomed and appreciated. Be warned…it's just filth!_

She was summoned, and as always she complied with obedience. It suited her and when the call came she allowed just the right amount of time to pass before making her way to where she was wanted, perhaps needed.

Gabriel Lorca sat alone in his quarters. She could sense his mood as soon as the door slid open with a gentle hiss, jaw clenched, uniform loosened at the neck, burning blue eyes that barely lifted from his screen to acknowledge her presence. She made herself comfortable, shedding her jacket and boots and lounging back on the sofa, silently observing every motion of the back of his head. It was easy to visualise every scowl and frown he was making without the need to see them, to recognise the tightening of the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he read something that displeased him. She lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, smirking as he angrily wrestled himself free of his jacket. Finally, after she felt he had stewed sufficiently and she became bored with the entertainment on offer, a trace of wickedness flashed in her eyes and she casually made her move. This game had played out so many times before.

He had made no sound other than the muffled grunts of annoyance at his work. Though he was keenly aware of the distraction behind him, he maintained the pretence of disinterest. It served a purpose; it amused him. He caught the reflection of his companion in the screen, chewing at her lip as she slid out of her trousers, creeping across the room in the tautly stretched undershirt, bare legs exposed. He found his tongue straying across his lip, but corrected himself and regained a steely and unmoved look. He liked making her work for it.

"Shitty day?" she breathed softy into his ear, bedding her fingers into his tensed shoulders and winding at the knots. He barely gave a sideways glance, feigning deep concentration.

"We could fuck out all of that frustration and make it better," she purred, tracing her tongue down his neck. He fought not to stir at the feel of hot breath and nipping teeth at his ear. A stifled sigh felt like a victory, but he still did not stir from his task.

Moving around to the edge of the desk, she forced a route into view. Still ignored. Exhaling a carefully scripted, deep, longing sigh, she slowly peeled off her t-shirt, scanning for reaction, but still not enough. She unhooked her bra, sliding one strap off a time; still nothing. Pushing out a mock pout she stretched out her foot to tease at his thigh, then squirmed her way into the tiny gap between the desk and the chair. She hooked her fingers into the band of her underwear teasing its removal, winning a glimmer of attention.

"They're very boring." He finally spoke, eyeing the plain, black, regulation knickers.

"I could have gone back to my quarters and changed, but you hate it when I'm late. Besides, they never stay on long enough for it to matter." She wound her hair around her finger, taking her turn in the game with glee.

At last he relented, pushing back the chair, allowing her to straddle him, hands rigidly dug in to its arms. She leant forward, returning the warmth and softness of her lips to his neck, alternating between wet, teasing licks and sharp pinches. The warmth of his body radiated underneath her, even the smallest hint of response pushing her harder to demand his full attention. Even now he pretended to view his work over her shoulder. She ground against him, rocking a slow aching rhythm, arching her back, demanding to be noticed. His hands lifted from their position and hovered dangerously behind the curve of her bottom. Fuelled to work harder, she gained purchase on his shoulders and upped the pace, letting out soft moans into his mouth, pleading to be kissed.

The sharp rise of arousal pressing between her thighs betrayed him, teased out of him by her now relentless rutting on his lap. Hands raked into her hair to drag her lips to his, claiming her mouth as she still ground out her need, all too aware of the urgent throb between her legs and the wet heat soaking through her underwear. As if he could hear her thoughts he pushed her back, her hips still instinctively writhing while he held himself still with every ounce of restraint he could muster. A teasing finger stroked her through her underwear and she cried out in lust.

"Desperate bitch," he growled.

She could only pant, open mouthed as his fingers slid into her soaked knickers, roughly forcing their way inside her, only to withdraw quickly. Lorca gave a wicked laugh as she willingly took his glistening fingers into her mouth, licking and sucking, as he watched her intently.

"I bet you'd fucking beg," he said, hands planting her down and stilling her wriggling body.

She nodded, eyes fixed on his, barely able to gasp a hoarse yes.

"On your knees." She complied without hesitation, helping him yank down his trousers and underwear in a single tug. He took a firm grip on his hard cock and she watched as he stroked himself.

"Mouth." He commanded.

She knew what he wanted, head down eyes up, slow gentle licks up the length of the shaft, soft flicks across the head, until his patience wore thin and he forced himself deep into the back of her throat, hips thrusting as he fucked her mouth until her watering eyes told him to stop and he released his grip allowing her to return to her own pace.

"Good girl." He brushed her cheek gently. "Up," He ordered, hooking his hands under her arms to help pull her upright. He raised himself to his feet, trying to hide any unsteadiness and maintain the illusion of casual disinterest. He pulled her close, dusting unexpected soft kisses on her forehead and lips.

"Bend over for me. I want to see your ass." His voice rumbled in her ear.

Instant compliance. He inhaled and ran his hands down her back, up the insides of her thighs, making her tingle and sigh, before he forcefully dragged her knickers to her ankles and tapped her thigh as a silent instruction to kick them away.

"What do you want?

She knew too well, knew all of the words he wanted to hear, when to say them and when to misbehave.

"I want you to fuck me."

A hard slap hit her bottom and she bit down on her wrist to silence her whimper.

"I want you to fuck me hard."

A pause, then another harder slap.

"What do you say?"

She looked back at him over her shoulder. "Please," she offered, "fuck me, please."

"Better," he said brushing his hand softly across her reddened cheeks, soothing the burning heat. She felt the tip of his cock brush over her arse. A tap on the inside of her thigh instructed her to part her legs further and he pressed himself between them. An uncontrolled deep moan forced its way out. Slap.

"No one said you could make noise. Now where should I put this?" he asked stroking himself against her.

"There," she rasped.

"Tell me where sweetheart, you know what I want to hear," he coaxed.

"In my…cunt," she whispered.

"Louder." His voice insistent.

"In my hot, tight cunt. It's so wet for you. Please fuck me, please." Her pleas were real now, urgent and needy.

"Dirty girl, but remember this," he said fingers finding her heat again, "is mine. Who does you cunt belong to?"

"You, Gabriel. It's yours." He liked to hear his name, he was Sir all day, spoken to with respectful platitudes. It was rare to be addressed by his first name.

He firmly held her hip and guided himself inside her, feeling her grip and tighten around him. Restraint fell away quickly, as he sunk into her willing body, gritting his teeth and taking her hard and deep, matching his strokes to eager bucking hips that urgently sought release. Unable to resist she slide her hand down to speed up the climax she ached for, letting out a whimper of satisfaction. He allowed it for a moment, before striking his the flat of his palm in rapid succession against her already sore arse.

"You want it so badly, needy slut," he said snatching her hand away.

Now both hands were pinned to the desk at the wrist, restrained firmly but painlessly, pausing only to enjoy his possession, before returning to his relentless pace. Her knees started to buckle.

"You can come for me now," he rasped, releasing her wrist and replacing her fingers circling at her clit with his own. Breath hitched, until the oxygen was almost squeezed from her lungs, thighs quivering she came at his demand.

"Gabriel," she cried out his name, followed quickly by the raised pitch of his final groan as he came inside her with a sharp jerk.

They remained still, heartbeats slowing, coming down from a high, until he gently pulled away. He held her close, wrapping his arms around her to hold her to his chest, kissing her with a softness that might have seemed out of place, tracing his tongue across hers until she slipped away.

"All better?"

He shrugged.

She was quick to start gathering her clothes, despite her Captain's attempts to distract her, to lure her in for more.

"Going somewhere?"

"It's my night off and it's party night. I'm going to get drunk, dance, flirt with boys. I might even find one who wants to go down. "

Though it paused for a brief second, the game was back on. The brief taste of jealousy hit the back of his throat and he pressed it back down.

"Then don't shower, I want you to taste of me."

She smiled, now fully dressed again. He too had replaced his clothes and she was making her way to the door. As always, he stuck his head out to check her exit would be unseen. There was no one there, but he ushered her back anyway to steal a final kiss.

"Be good," he said patting her still tender bottom. He half meant it.

"You like me better when I'm bad," her parting shot over her shoulder as she made her way down the corridor.

The doors closed. Gabriel was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

_Cheers for the reads, favourites, alerts and all, reviews, always welcome and very much appreciated. This is also on AO3 and I am happy to have a go at prompts/suggestions for another chapter (or two!). Read and enjoy!_

 _Merry Christmas guys_

The insistent bleeping of the door finally forced her slightly sore and fuzzy head from under the sheets, whoever it was they were adamant that she wasn't going to get the peaceful slumber she craved. Between a full shift, an energetic house call to her Captain and a lively party it had been a long day.

"Alright, alright," she said to the uninvited caller, dragging herself from the warmth and comfort of her bed.

The door slid open to reveal an unexpected sight. Lorca filled the doorway, his head propped against the frame leaning on the back of one hand, a half-consumed bottle of scotch trailing at his side in the other. He looked loose and dishevelled; slightly glassy-eyed and grinning, trying his best to maintain arrogant nonchalance, failing miserably. Her appearance forced a smile.

"You took your time, I thought I was going to have to pull rank and override the door controls." He stepped inside without invitation. It was the first time he had ever been in her quarters. He studied the unusual sight of her in oversized pink t-shirt and long fluffy socks pulled up above her knees, bleary eyed with unruly bed hair.

"I wasn't expecting guests at this hour."

She snatched the bottle from his hand, taking a long gulp as she made her way across the room to set the lights accordingly, the t-shirt riding up at the back as she raised her arm, affording him the slightest glimpse of her curve of her arse. He wondered if his crimson hand print was still branded on her bottom; he hoped so.

"I thought you might be tired of your boys and need a man."

"What if I wasn't alone?" her tone was playful and she curled and chewed at her lower lip.

He had brooded on those thoughts after she had left, angered by the image of her pressed against a wall, or crammed into a cupboard being artlessly touched or fucked by some younger, eager boy. The persistent thought of her dancing, allowing an anonymous male figure to grind up against her, shamelessly flirting with her head bowed but those burning eyes gazing up, open mouthed and breathy, filled him with anger. Disgust at his own jealousy enraged him more and he crawled into the warm comfort of a strong drink. The evening had not been enjoyable, filled with poorly repressed envy and attempts to banish pictures that crept back as quickly as they had left.

When his mind wandered to the party again, he instead wondered if her faceless lover might take a softer, female form. He found the image pleasant, unthreatening, even exciting, and he allowed himself to imagine her pressed against the soft curves of another girl; soft but eager kisses, feminine hands grasping to undress each other. She would stop and give him _that_ look over her companion's shoulder, because she knew that's what he wanted, because she would revel in his approval. It turned him on. His own efforts to satisfy his lustful ache were still constantly interrupted by less palatable thoughts. It was too much. After a minor abuse of power, he knew she was in her room alone and he could not resist. His call went unanswered. He paced the room impatiently until he could stand it no longer and he made his way to her quarters.

"I'd have spanked your ass for disobedience," his reply.

His words elicited as visible shudder of anticipation as she shuffled up onto the bed, pulling up her knees and stretching the t-shirt over them. She looked young, if he didn't know better he'd say innocent. She took another swig from the bottle.

"Heathen," he said, "that's good scotch, don't you have a glass in here?"

"Bite me," she said raising her middle finger, goading him for a response.

"Oh I will."

He took the bottle back, taking a drink that he nearly spat back as she slid out of the creased garment that had covered her modesty and sprawled out across the bed, unashamedly naked.

"In a hurry for something?" he questioned with obvious amusement at her eagerness.

The playful notes in her voice faded. "I think we both know you and your good scotch aren't here for small talk."

He scooped up the fluffy socks she had discarded. "I need these. Do you have any more?"

She laughed. "In the drawer, knock yourself out," playfulness returning as he rifled through her underwear. "You never mentioned a sock fetish."

"Shut the fuck up."

He was serious now, filled with intent. Eyes and words signalling that the balance of power had shifted back in his favour. She complied, part thankful and part disappointed that her knickers were long gone else they might be stuffed into her mouth to silence her; he'd done it before.

Now he was binding her wrists and ankles to a bed frame that didn't best lend itself to the exercise, his complicit captive allowing him to position her as he required. Every tightening knot at her limbs created an equal tightening in her stomach that slowly unravelled, sending jolts of excitement to the mounting throb of desire between her legs. He stood back and admired his willing prisoner: calm; controlled and possessive. She tugged lightly at her restraints, savouring her powerlessness. Her wide eyes and pounding heartbeat were met with a wicked smirk of satisfaction, as he intended to administer lengthy and exquisite torture in return for his earlier torment.

He brushed his lips over hers, pulling away only to see her fight her bindings to follow his mouth. Gabriel worked his way down her neck, biting at her collar bone. He painstakingly teased at each nipple, alternating between soft, caressing licks and the forceful sharpness of teeth. With every tensing of her muscles and sharp inhalation of breathe he teased more.

Finally, he positioned himself between her legs, working his way down from her ankle to her thigh, tender, soft, sensual lips giving way to a harsh sucking and biting that was bound to leave a small bruise. She liked those little marks of ownership; their meetings were not always as frequent as she would like, but alone in her bed her fingers would stray to those imprints and she would drift back with ease to the wonderful ecstatic state of relinquishing all control to him.

She writhed at her ties, whimpering as he lowered his head and teased one long slow lick the length of her already slick folds, forcing his name from her lips. He smiled darkly as she whinnied for more. He pressed his hand down on her stomach.

"Be a good girl, stay still, and no fucking noise. One little squeal and I'll leave you like this." His eyes were dark with power and lust.

She repressed the rising need to cry out and beg for more, almost holding her breath to prevent any sound leaking out, biting down on her lip to do as she was told. Gabriel relished each delicious second of her submission, before returning his mouth to the drenched heat before him, every motion a calculated response to the silent twitches in her body. He pushed her close, amusing himself by spelling out his favourite profanities on her clit with the tip of his tongue. He could feel her thigh start to tremble and glanced up to watch her struggling to stifle her desire to moan and whimper. He stopped.

He moved away, observing the sharp rise and fall of her chest and the urgent need in her pleading eyes.

Unable to contain it any longer she let out a deep sigh whispered a soft, "please."

He sighed and shook his head.

"You just can't fucking behave." With the final word came a sharp, focused slap across her cunt.

Her whole body jolted in shock and at the intense stinging sensation, yet she managed to hold in the high-pitched yelp that tried to force its way out. She was desperate to squeeze her legs together to find some respite, her eyes filling with hot salty tears. He brushed them away softly with his thumb, shushing her and leaving a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Good girl," he soothed, "you are _safe_." He lingered on the last word, posing it almost as a question, offering her escape. This was new. It was easy to forget she might have limits; the idea of boundaries had never been an issue before.

She nodded and her consent to continue was met with another instant hard slap. It took all she had not to cry out in an unknown feeling somewhere between pleasure and agony.

He pressed his palm firmly between her legs. She squirmed against it as much as she could, given her restricted movement, still craving relief from the hot ache. His skilful fingers worked their way inside her. She shifted against them trying to wriggle and buck against each painfully slow stroke, her head swimming, still biting down to remain silent, yet with a desperation to reach the climax she already knew would shatter her into pieces.

"So wet, dirty, dirty, dirty," each word was echoed with a harder, deeper, twisting thrust, " _bitch,_ " with that came another hard spank across her dripping cunt.

She bit down hard, sucking in air through her teeth and stifling a sob, as her body fought a delicious war between the pleasure that came from his mouth and fingers and the pain of being spanked. Even that pain brought its own feelings of gratification.

"There, there," he calmed, gently running his hand up the length of her legs, "you can come for me now."

He buried himself between her legs again, first tenderly lapping until he felt an urgency building in every slight movement she could make. He stopped only to command her to break her silence.

"Scream for me, sweetheart, scream my name, scream my fucking name."

She did. Over and over as excitement tore through every sinew, winding out from his greedy mouth at her soaked cunt, down every limb as she yanked at the soft shackles holding her down, preventing her from raking her fingers into his hair and holding him where she needed him.

She lay panting, trying hard to recover her breath, her thoughts, her composure. Unable to muster any adequate words, she watched him quickly discard his clothes and untie her ankles with an unexpected gentle reverence. He knelt between her thighs, raising each leg slowly and resting her ankles on his shoulders, noting the light but reddened friction burns left behind from her bonds. He fucked her slowly, exercising control, withdrawing almost completely only to fill her again when he felt her start to pine for the loss of him. The unexpected softness was disarming. Gabriel's finger tips grazed lightly across her breasts, lingering a second longer at each hardened nipple before trailing across her belly and up her exposed inner tights. He kissed the now rosy welts where her ties had been.

"Mine," he growled before stepping up his pace, gripping her calves to plunge deeper inside her. She moaned with approval, encouraging him to take her more forcefully and he obliged instantly, his own need becoming increasingly urgent. His thumb brushed her swollen clit, speeding her body to orgasm. Watching her come undone underneath him sent him over the edge and he spilled into her with a final hard drive into her willing body. He remained still for a moment, eyes closed until a wicked grin broke through and he let out an almost triumphant laugh and collapsed down on the bed beside her.

He finally untied her wrists and leant across to kiss her before she curled up beside him, resting her chin on his chest.

"Any other kinks you would like to share, Captain?"

"Yes," his succinct response.

She looked up at him expectantly.

"All in good time, honey, all in good time."


End file.
